


The Cold Truth (Or, The Doxylamine Succinate Principle)

by SBG



Series: Sickness and Health [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's kind of repulsively sick, but that doesn't seem to stop Steve from wanting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold Truth (Or, The Doxylamine Succinate Principle)

**Author's Note:**

> Doxylamine succinate is an ingredient in the cold medicine NyQuil.

There were many words Steve McGarrett might use to describe Danny Williams, but disgusting wasn’t usually one of them. He counted today as one of those exceptions to rules, because that word had been at the top of an unfavorable list on the tip of his tongue pretty much nonstop for a few hours. The combination of bleary, watery eyes and puffy, chapped nose wasn’t a good look for anyone, but Danny? Well, Danny also tossed in unkempt hair and his usually impeccably pressed shirt and trousers were disheveled, making the whole package pretty unpleasant. At first he’d felt bad for involuntarily recoiling whenever Danny turned his way, before he realized Danny’s appalling appearance was simply the icing on a very gross cake.

Case in point, the sound currently emanating from Danny’s office. Steve saw Kono crinkle her nose in distaste, an expression that perfectly captured what everyone who’d come into contact with Danny felt. He loved Danny like a brother (not _exactly_ like, or not quite at all) and could tolerate a lot, but the guy had already blown his nose twice in the past ten minutes. Danny had a cold; nose-blowing was part and parcel. The problem was that it had started sounding like a dying Nēnē earlier this morning, which was when Steve should have insisted Danny go home. He was a SEAL, though, and according to Danny, that made him a glutton for punishment. Punishment was one thing, this was something else altogether.

Kono glanced toward Steve and muttered, “Sack up.” Then she picked up the giant can of fresh linen scented disinfectant spray, aimed it toward Danny’s office and let loose enough of the aerosol to put down a troupe of cold-infested Dannys. 

Subtlety, Steve knew, wasn’t exactly Kono’s forte. He also knew that her attempt to stay germ-free, while over the top, wasn’t a terrible idea. Danny was a walking incubator for the cold virus right now. Any reasonable person suffering the same symptoms Danny wasn’t shy about showcasing to the world would have stayed home, in bed after taking copious amounts of medicine. Despite the ragged look of his partner, Steve couldn’t help but smile at the image of Danny curled up and sleepy in a bed, with rumpled white sheets and fluffy pillows. He allowed that picture to linger, the way he let his fantasies take over with increased regularity these days. He was treading toward dangerous territory, without appropriate safety gear, and he knew it. Danny was off limits, for many reason, not the least of which being an irrefutable interest in women.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled him out of his own head and back to reality. Steve blinked and caught the tail end of a Chin side-eye. It was safe to say they were all distracted by Danny’s malaise and the case, easy money-laundering scheme that it appeared to be, was suffering for it. 

“Okay, I’ll handle it,” Steve said. He tapped the tech table a few times. “Uh, any suggestions?”

“Drug him up, drag him home, knock him over the head,” Kono said. “Do all three. I wouldn’t even care what order you do it in, just get him out of here before he kills us with his germs or his grumpy attitude. I’ve never been so envious for someone being on the mainland, but Lori really lucked out going to that convention before Snotzilla arrived.”

“He doesn’t feel well. Cut him some slack, Kono,” Chin said, with a note of reproach in his tone. There might also have been a hint of amusement. “If he feels half as bad as he looks, he could be near death.”

Kono laughed, but shook her head. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I don’t care how sick he is, he’s been a bear and no one forced him to come to work today. Steve, go get that contagious son of a biscuit out of our office.”

“All right, all right, okay.”

He approached Danny’s office the way he would any of his classified operations, with his senses on high alert. The last time he’d attempted conversation with Danny, he’d gotten a one-fingered salute and a Cro-Magnon grunt. Of course, he’d led off with a comment about Danny’s hair resembling Woody Woodpecker, so he might have asked for the rudeness in return. To be honest, he would have found the wild hair alone kind of endearing. Coupled with the rest of it, though, it was just pathetic. Steve took a deep breath as he stepped into the threshold of the office. He shuffled his feet to get Danny’s attention, but it didn’t work. Then he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Hey, Danny?” Steve said.

Danny moved at last, sluggish and slow as if he were under water. He shifted his attention from something on his bare desk to Steve, eyes even redder than they’d been before and now he had dark, deep circles under them. 

Steve hoped Danny was too sick to notice how he took a step back and thumped against the door or maybe the grimace on his face would look like he’d hit his funny bone. Any of his slightly stylized imaginings of Danny in bed (his bed, preferably) disappeared. A head cold from hell was apparently enough to kill even a fake dream. It also didn’t help that he heard Kono snicker, and he chose not to dignify it with a response.

“What now?” Danny asked, his T and N sounding more like Ds. He also sounded about as cheerful as a lion with a thorn in its paw. “What do you want, huh?”

With Danny, there was always some tactical forethought necessary to navigate a conversation. Steve would never think of admitting he did that, not to Danny or anyone, and he didn’t count it as a detriment of having Danny as his partner at all. If anything, he counted it as one of Danny’s charms – that ability of his to surprise in even the most basic of daily functions like discussion was. This, though, was different. Danny was tetchy, abrupt and clearly frustrated; based on prior experience and Danny’s greeting, no amount of tapdancing was going to make this go any better. He could spend the next ten minutes riling Danny up just by being healthy and hale and in his vicinity, or he could use a different approach. He bypassed the verbal altogether, chose instead to stride around Danny’s desk.

Danny’s reactions were too slow as Steve pushed him and his chair out of the way and checked that whatever Danny was working on was on the cloud before he shut the computer down. The protest was feeble and came as a croak followed by a hacking cough, unneeded evidence the cold had taken a firm hold. He gave Danny a pointed onceover, ignoring the bleary-eyed glare aimed back at him.

“Have you bothered to take anything for this?” Steve asked.

“I don’t like cold medicine. It makes me…” Danny wobbled a hand in the air. Then he scrunched his nose and sneezed loudly. “Ugh.”

“That is really gross, man.” Steve did not appreciate the bodily fluid splattering on his bare arm. He couldn’t even spare much time to consider the other bodily fluids of Danny’s he’d mind a lot less with Danny looking so, so dreadful. He used the first tissue to wipe himself down. The box, he handed to Danny. “Come on, you’re going home.”

He expected at least a token protest, but Danny’s shoulders simply slouched even more and he nodded. Danny looked so sad and sorry that Steve almost forgot the number of times he got sniped at, growled at and coughed at all day. Almost. The recent sneezing-on did wonders for sharpening his memory, and yet he wasn’t totally without heart. Danny’s misery might span a far larger circle than was acceptable for fundamental human courtesy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling the worst of it himself. Steve locked his own frustration away for the time being – though he planned on letting Danny know what a pain in the ass he was at a later date. 

“Keys,” Steve said and held out his hand.

“I can drive myself,” Danny grumbled. 

“Keys, Danny.”

“Fine, have it your way.” 

Kono looked at him as if he’d signed his own death warrant as he guided Danny, muzzy-headed and a little clumsy, out of HQ, and then let loose another stream of disinfecting spray in their wake.

H50H50H50

“I don’t want any,” Danny said, petulant and whiny even with the snuffy tone. “I told you I hate that stuff. It’s dangerous. It makes me feel weird.”

“As opposed to feeling like you do?” Steve said, incredulous.

The reason he’d willingly gotten into the small interior of Danny’s car with him was to ensure his partner got the appropriate care. Steve would use Danny’s decision to come to work sick as a dog as proof he wasn’t thinking clearly and incapable of making the right call when it came to his health, if it came down to a debate.

“Drink up. By the time I get you home, you’ll be ready to crawl right into bed. I’ll even tuck you in.”

Danny stared at him for several long seconds, something impossible to describe hidden behind the blood-shot, watery eyes. 

Something that made Steve’s pulse increase, if he were going to be honest. He’d seen that kind of look from Danny before, or at least he imagined he had. Key word, imagined. Between one blink and the next, Danny was staring at him and then staring with derision at the little plastic cup of green liquid Steve held out, no trace of that other thing in his expression at all. He jostled the cup as if he were offering Danny an enticing shot of whiskey instead.

“ _Drink up._ I got you the good tissues, too, the medicated ones with lotion, but you only get them after you take your medicine.”

“Blackmailing an ill person. Steven, that is low.”

“I know.” Steve grinned. “I advise you do it in one gulp.”

Danny scowled, grabbed the green goo and tossed it back, then held out his hand for the tissue box. 

Steve passed the whole bag of goods over to Danny. Along with the cold medicine and tissue, he’d picked up several cans of soup, some crackers, honey and lemons. Hey, Danny was an annoying guy when he was sick, but that didn’t mean any of them wanted him to suffer. He pulled out of the pharmacy’s parking lot and got them back on the road, enjoying the relative silence as he did. The sound of Danny’s breathing was loud, rough in a similar way to the way he got when he was trying to contain his emotions and the plastic bag rustled as Danny rooted through it, but other than that it was quiet. 

“You bought me soup,” Danny whispered after a few minutes.

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, turning to Danny as he pulled up to a stoplight. There it was again, but no, not quite the same expression as before. Similar. Soft, fond. He almost tripped over his own tongue. “Isn’t that what sick people are supposed to eat?”

“That’s a total cliché.” Danny smiled at him dopily. The two bright red spots on his cheeks were redder still against his otherwise pale face. “But it’s very sweet. You’re very sweet sometimes, you know. If I haven’t told you that, I’ve been remiss.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. The words and the smile (which was sweet in its own disgusting chapped-lips kind of way) together flummoxed him for a few seconds, so much that he started when the driver behind him hit the horn in a few rapid honks. The light was green. He took the foot off the brake, drove on without acknowledging the sweet remark. He felt sure the tips of his ears must be the color of fresh strawberries with how hot they were. There was something about Danny, healthy or sick, apparently, that could set him off kilter like no one else had managed for a long, long time. He had to focus on the Danny who’d sneezed all over him. He sneaked a look at Danny, who was clutching the plastic bag to him like it was a precious commodity and drowsing with his eyelids at half-mast. His partner still had that smile on his face, though, and he snuggled against the seat like it was the most comfortable sofa in the world. He had to smile himself. 

“And you got honey,” Danny murmured. His eyes blinked, slightly out of sync. “’s sweet too.”

Steve figured when Danny had said that cold medicine made him feel funny what he meant was that they turned him into a teddy bear, the kind that was worn and tattered around the edges. He resisted the urge to reach over and tame down some of the more flyaway of Danny’s hairs. The thing was, it shouldn’t be so difficult for him to move past this infatuation or whatever he had for Danny. He realized it was bigger than he’d wanted to admit, if he could find Danny even remotely attractive when he looked like an extra from a zombie flick. It might be easier if Danny didn’t look at him the way he did sometimes, or lean into him so readily. 

“It’s all in your head,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Mmmph.” Danny shifted, rested his head on the window. 

Apparently, the other thing Danny meant about it making him feel funny was that he was a cold medicine lightweight. Steve might be in danger of having to carry the guy into his apartment when they got there. He wouldn’t mind that so much, actually, embarrassed to admit their size difference was a turn-on. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, pushed his foot onto the pedal a little harder. Beside him, Danny snuffled and snored and damn it all anyway, what had been extremely annoying less than an hour ago was now cute. 

When Steve pulled into the parking space in front of Danny’s place ten minutes later, shutting off the engine had the effect of waking Danny up. He immediately straightened and the plastic grocery bag slid into the foot well. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, then looked more bleary-eyed than ever at Steve.

“Thanks,” Danny said as he fumbled for the door handle. “Don’t crash my car.” 

“I’ve never put a dent in this car,” Steve said. “And I’m not just dumping you off.”

He snagged the keys from the ignition, got out of the car and went around to the passenger side. He watched Danny move with lack of coordination, more from being almost asleep than the medication, and took the grocery bag to make things less complicated for his partner. As a reward, Danny leaned into him in the exact manner that drove him crazy and made him think those imaginary, perilous things.

Danny stumbled after him, alarmingly complacent given how crotchety and contrary he’d been all morning. Steve decided the old adage of gift horses was appropriate here, and he moved without speaking himself. He’d just go in, make sure Danny was settled and then be on his way. 

The flaw in his plan became apparent to him when he went into the kitchen to put the soup on the counter, fix Danny some hot water with lemon and honey and get a glass of water to keep at Danny’s bedside and came back out to find Danny stripped to his skivvies and socks, face down on the sofa. Danny’s ass in boxer briefs was…

“Great,” Steve said to the ceiling. “Just freaking fantastic.”

Danny snored and burrowed his face deeper into the couch cushion. 

Steve set the waters on the small coffee table and tentatively touched Danny’s shoulder. Danny’s skin was warm, and the contact made him shiver and shirk away. He knew Danny might be the epitome of contented right now, but in a few hours he’d regret the face plant on the nearest horizontal surface.

“Hey, let’s get you into bed, why don’t we?” he said, grasping Danny’s shoulder more firmly. 

Danny broke out in gooseflesh and mumbled something too muffled by cushions to make out. He lifted his head, peered at Steve for a moment.

“Bed, Steve?” Danny said sleepily. “Sounds nice. You’re sweet _and_ have the best ideas.”

Steve ignored the hot spike of desire, perplexed that he couldn’t seem to shut that part of his brain down right now when it was as inappropriate as ever. More so. Danny was spacy and sick and there was nothing about him that should make Steve want to say screw the germs and crawl into bed with him, hold him till he fell asleep. He eased Danny upright, focused on his partner’s shivers and fever rather than the admirable muscle under surprisingly soft skin, ever the glutton for punishment, and helped Danny to his bedroom. What should have been a simple tuck and run ended up complicated and messy, Danny’s limbs floppy and his own movements hampered by his need to keep as much space between them as possible. Germs, he could say, or might have said had he not somehow ended half sprawled on Danny.

“Jeez, sorry,” he said.

“Nah. Wanted you here for a long time,” Danny said.

“I’m starting to think you’re delirious,” Steve said, as he tried to extricate himself from Danny’s now strong hold.

“Nope. Not. I’m grumpy and achy and tired and a whole bunch of other terrible things, but not delirious.” 

All of that might have been more convincing if Danny didn’t sound and look the way he did. The declaration belied the outward appearance, strong where Danny looked ill. Steve froze for a second, looked into Danny’s eyes, which had that note of something unnameable in them and were surprisingly clear.

“Danny?”

Danny’s eyes widened, as if his own brain was now catching up with his mouth, and then he shut them tight for few seconds. 

“Damn cold medicine is like sodium pentothal,” Danny grumbled. “Family curse, low tolerance. I have a tendency to say things I wouldn’t normally. You can forget everything I say if you want, okay?”

It took Steve several beats to process that, both because of Danny’s hoarse and stuffed up voice and the blood rushing first in his ears and then down to his dick. He tried again to lift himself, unintentionally wriggling. For his trouble, he felt Danny half-hard through his underwear. Huh, okay.

“Don’t take it personally. I should be hard as a rock. You do that to a person, you have no idea how often,” Danny said, then shrugged and shook his head. “Damn cold medici…”

Looking back, when he was elbow-deep in lotioned, medicated tissues himself, Steve would have to acknowledge it was a mistake to kiss the truth-telling right out of Danny. Looking back, he’d also have to acknowledge that as far as kisses went, it was sub-par and far, far too full of phlegm. He wouldn’t have done it any differently, though, because Danny had infected him with something more potent than a head cold a long time ago. 

“I don’t plan on forgetting,” Steve said against Danny’s dry lips. “Unless you want me to.”

Danny turned his head away and practically sneezed out a lung, then, really selling the moment.


End file.
